The Phone Call
by Tonirae
Summary: Not all Hermione's spells work the way she hopes. It that a bad thing?


"Ron, don't you see? It was the only way I could think of." Hermione pleaded. She paced across the back patio of her parent's home. She just couldn't bear to open the door. "They had to know. They had to help with the planning."

"But you would wipe their memory and they just let you do it?" Ron was perplexed. He knew roughly that Hermione had changed the memories of her parents and then sent them off to Australia, but how she could have done it. To purposely make your parents forget their child is beyond comprehension.

"Yes, that's what I've been saying." She sighed and plopped down on the deck chair, jumped up, tossed the stick onto the ground and then sat down again. "We had talked about it right after Professor Dumbledore's Funeral. They knew I needed to go. They knew they would not be safe. Australia was Dad's idea. I was going to cast the charm the next day at the airport, but I decided to spring it on them the night before. It was cowardly, but I couldn't handle the goodb.." Her voice broke and tears threatened to fall.

"Hey, Hey…" Ron rushed to her side. "It'll be alright." He held her until her breath evened out again. "But… How did you get the charm? Did you know it before term ended?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. I asked Remus if he knew any charm or spell, and Kingsley overheard us. He gave me a book that had several spells." She wiped her eyes and gave a half-smile. "I guess now is the time to learn how to un-charm them."

"I tell you what. Why don't we start by going in your house and getting it ready for them?" Ron asked, lifting her back to her feet. "It's why we're here, after all."

Ron used Hermione's key and unlocked the door to her childhood home, stepped back and urged Her to walk in first. They weren't sure of what they would find. It was known that the Death-eaters had found the place, but did they leave it habitable? What was left after the Aurors had cleared it of any curses?

It was a mess. Not just the mess of a dozen two-year old's having tantrums. It was the vengeful mess of someone out for blood. Hermione led Ron directly through the kitchen. Cupboards were half ripped off the walls, contents purposely tossed around.

Hermione moved to open the door to the lounge, but hesitated.

"It's silly, I half expect them to be in there." She said nervously. "It's where I last saw them."

Ron reached around her and turned the latch. The door opened to reveal a room much like the others. The dignified furnishings were barely recognizable, so smashed they were. Only an armchair and a small tea table were still usable, if you propped up the odd broken leg.

Hermione stood in the center of the room, wondering where to start. Then she noticed a tiny blinking light near the floorboard. Leaning down, she brought out a small machine. She also lifted up another mess with several parts and cords still attached. Setting them down on the small tea table, she hooked things up, tightened cords, even went so far as to crawl on the floor to follow the longest wire to a spot on the wall. She pushed a button.

Nothing happened. If anything, the small blinking light stopped blinking. She repeated the same steps and tried again. Ron just stood back, not only unfamiliar with the technology, but being quite amused at his girlfriend's determined look.

This time, a small voice sounded from the smallest machine. " _Thank you for ringing. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible._ Press 1 for more options. Beeeeep"

"25 December at 12:38 PM _. Hi Darling. Not to shock you but… we remembered a few things. Give us a ring when you can. Merry Christmas. Love you!_ Beeeeep. To return this call, press 7. To delete, press 9."

Hermione slumped to the floor at the first word. It was her mother. Did she?...What? But before she could finish her thought, another voice came out, Her father.

"30 January at 11:59 AM. _Hello Sweetheart. Just so you know, you're doing a great job. Phone us when everything is done. Love you._ Beeeeep. To return this call, press 7. To delete, press 9."

 _No, It couldn't have happened…._

"1 March at 10:56 AM. _Good Morning Darling. Monthly message to say all is well here. Good luck Dear._ Beeeeep. To return this call, press 7. To delete, press 9."

 _What could they remember?_

"5 May at 5:47 PM. _Darling! Just heard from an old, noble acquaintance, saying that your project is finished. Phone as soon as you can. We'd love to hear how it went. Love you._ Beeeeep. To return this call, press 7. To delete, press 9."

 _Noble? Noble…Kingsley?_

"6 May at 4:03 PM. _Sweetheart. We have received reports from the Higher-ups that your project worked out great. Rest up then phone us when you can. We're waiting to hear from you._ Beeeeep. To return this call, press 7. To delete, press 9."

She stared at the table, too weak with shock to move from the floor. Ron bent down and lifted her back to her feet. But before he could say anything, Hermione shushed him and fiddled with the buttons again. The messages repeated and this time, Hermione's face turned from startled into excitement. Her first impulse was to jab at the number 7, but just inches away, her hand froze.

"Hermione, That was just yesterday! Go on. Phone them!" Ron encourages her.

"But what if they never forgive me? How can they remember? How much do they remember?" She tried to focus her eyes onto Ron, but a vision of her parent's vapid expression from the freshly cast spell, drove her finger to behind her back.

"It sounds like Kingsley contacted them. It'll be alright. Come on." Ron gently eased her hand from behind her back.

As her hand came closer to the machine, Hermione drew a deep breath and took a stab at number 7. Nothing happened. Then she remembered something. She snatched up the handset of the phone and pressed the number 7. None of the buttons seemed to work again.

She hung the phone again and stared at it in dismay. "Ron, How…I can't…It's not working." She gestured limply to the table. Tears started falling down her cheeks. Ron wrapped her into his arms, pleased at how natural it felt after all these years.

She clung tightly. She had no real sleep since the final battle. Nothing to eat except a few bites of a sandwich and a cup of tea, what, a day ago. This disappointment was just one thing too many. Her legs started to feel wobbly. Ron held her up and used his wand to set the armchair back onto its newly repaired feet. He eased her onto the cushion then knelt in front of her.

"Hey. They phoned yesterday and the day before. We'll just stay here until they ring again. I promise, we won't miss them again. Okay?"

She nodded, feeling better. In fact, having a few seconds of crying, she was herself again. But seeing how Ron was shaken, she let him play the hero.

Ron stood and right-ended a small table, repaired the broken top then set it beside the up-ended sofa. While staying close to his love, he tidied the room, at least to a state that a clueless young man could tidy an unfamiliar room. Hermione could only smile. He may be clumsy and uncertain, but she knew he would die for her. He had proven it time after time. She pulled out her wand and swept up broken crockery and glass shards from the floor.

As Ron tried to repair the large credenza that normally sat at the back of the sofa, Hermione stood and went towards the kitchen. If they were going to stay until the next call, she wanted to see if there were any non-perishables left. No more than two steps from the room, the phone rang. Ron, who had only limited experience with telephones, jumped in place waving his wand, ready for any attack.

Hermione raced back to the phone and hesitated for just a brief moment before snatching the hand-set up. "Hello? Mum?" Tears started to slip down her cheeks again.


End file.
